


Comatose

by GothamPeasant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptions of death and Grief, Full Shift Werewolves, I'll add characters as they come along, M/M, Mates, Stiles and his dad have a good relationship, idk how to tag help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothamPeasant/pseuds/GothamPeasant
Summary: The night of his mom's death Stiles finds a comatose man in his bed.Things get a little...weird from there.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 90
Kudos: 316





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heeeey.
> 
> So I should be working on my other story but I watched Teen Wolf for the first time in my life and fell very very far down a hole. Oops.  
> This is purely self indulgent and I apologize for nothing. Including the terrible Grammar because I do not have a beta. Actually no I am sorry. Please let me know if anything needs to be more concise or cleared up as I will GLADY do my best. I get all excited to post and look over a lot of things.
> 
> A few warnings: 
> 
> Death and grief is described a lot.  
> Mentions of Medicine is based entirely off my own experiences and should be taken with a grain of salt as everyone is different (And that's okay!)  
> While this is a Mates story NO ONE is going to get together while underage. This story will span into Stile's adult life. 
> 
> If I need to add anything please let me know. <3

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut leaning his head against the window of the cruiser ignoring the way his head banged slightly against it. The shocks on the cruiser were old with the road beneath even older.

His mom used to make it a game when they would run errands in the jeep. How many potholes could they hit on the way to the supermarket! It went up every time. The constant construction only seemed to make things worse.

Stiles loved going along with his mom on those days. They would make bets on how many there were and whoever won got a candy bar at check out. Stiles always won, even when he lost, and it always gave him something to occupy his mind.

His mom loved teaching him little tricks to keep him focused. His school was always asking her and his dad about medication for him and he never really understood. His mom always told him that it was his choice. His teachers were adamant that it would help him not be a disruption in class. His dad told him that it would help him with his mind.

Stiles didn’t think anything was wrong with his mind. Sure, he knew he wasn’t normal. It always seemed like he was going ten times faster than the other kids, and sometimes it felt like he was ten times slower where it really counted, but he always thought it evened out. Scott never really seemed to mind either, and most things these days was Stiles and Scott against the world, so he didn’t think all that hard on it.

But tonight he’d give anything to shut off his brain, anything to keep the image of his mother’s still body out from behind his eyelids, anything to forget how cold her hand had felt when he tried to wake her up.

Only she wasn’t asleep.

“Hey kiddo.” His dad said voice rough from tears. “We’re going to be okay. Alright kiddo? I-”

Stiles squeezed his eyes tighter trying to ignore the sound of the sob forcing its way out of his dad. His dad sniffled once before continuing.

“I know it’s not alright right now, but we’ll be okay. I promise, kiddo.”

Stiles felt his dad’s hand awkwardly pat his shoulder.

He smiled, a grimace more than anything, and opened his eyes.

“Ten and two, dad. Both hands on the wheel.”

His dad huffed out a breath before putting his hand back on the wheel.

Stiles knew he was going to be okay. His mom had done a good job of teaching him how to take care of himself where it mattered. She taught him how to cook all her family recipes. She taught him how to do his laundry, and how to get stains out of the carpet. She would make a game out of it, and Stiles was always eager to play along.

And then one day she sat him down to explain that he would be without her very soon.

She gave him books on grief and coping. She gave him pamphlets for programs that he was to give to his dad if he ever needed them. Then she took them to Scott’s house to talk to Mrs. McCall. They talked far longer than Stiles wanted to before Mrs. McCall pulled him aside to tell him he was welcome at any time. No matter what. He nodded and asked if he could go upstairs and play video games with Scott now.

Stiles hadn’t cried that day. He didn’t cry today either. He wasn’t crying now.

But his dad was.

His mom had prepared him for her death. It seemed almost a relief to have it finally happen. He was tired of watching her waste away. He was tired of watching his dad enter the hospital room gray faced and afraid every day.

It seemed she forgot to prepare his dad though. Stiles didn’t know what to do to help. He was eleven years old how was he supposed to know what to do?

“We’ll be okay, dad. Don’t worry.”

His dad nodded, blinking rapidly clearing the tears before pulling into their driveway.

They both sat there for a long drawn out moment. What were you supposed to do knowing your life has changed forever? What was your next move?

Stiles sighed before opening his door and marching up to the front door. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, but he never did. His mom always told him to do what felt right, even when the world seemed to be turning in the opposite direction.

He was working on instinct alone.

His dad hesitated at the car. His eyes wide and glistening fingers fidgeting with the keys in his hand.

“Come on, dad. It’s freezing. We’re gonna freeze.” Stiles called gently. They couldn’t stand out here all night, no matter how much he wanted too.

“You want to get a hotel room tonight, kiddo? Maybe it’s too soon to be here.”

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Daaaaad, come on. All my clothes are upstairs, and I really want to change. I can smell the hospital stench from here and I am so sick of hospital smell. If I could have a superpower it would be to never smell this smell again. Okay well maybe not, I’d want superstrength, but no sense of smell is quickly becoming really high on that list.”

“Okay, Okay, I got it. Let’s go get changed.”

“Thanks dad.” Stiles leaned his head against his dad’s shoulder as he unlocked the door.

His dad ruffled his head as he ducked through the door.

“Get changed and come back down. I’ll see what I can do about getting us some food.”

Stiles nodded before shuffling up the stairs. He wasn’t really hungry. He felt like he’d never be hungry again, his stomach already feeling like a lead weight, but one of the books his mom had gave him talked about the importance of keeping up with food and hygiene and it seemed like a stupid fight to pick with his dad right now anyway.

Stiles swung his door open determined to change into the Batman pajamas his mom had given him for Christmas.

He froze before stepping foot in the room.

There on his bed was a dead man. Face scarred, and body completely still.

Stiles screamed.

Multiple panicked phones calls, an ambulance, and multiple officers later, Stiles and his dad ended up right back where they began the night. At the hospital.

Stiles sat in an uncomfortable chair behind the nurses’ station watching his dad on the other side argue with a couple of people from the station and a man dressed in a pressed suit.

“Sir, I understand this is an unusual situation.” The man sighed to his dad. His voice pitched high enough Stiles had to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears.

Stiles eyes flickered over to his dad. He’d never seen his face so red in anger before, and that’s including the time Stiles broke his babcia’s pretty vase directly after his dad has told him to stop messing with it.

“Unusual? No, I don’t think you understand the situation at all Sir. My wife died tonight, _SIR_. My wife died tonight and no less than 2 hours later a comatose man ends up in my son’s bed. And you’re sitting here telling me you have no idea how that could possibly happen.”

“Well, Sherriff, it’s not like he walked out of here on his own.” The man sneered.

“No, no it’s not. Still, you’re telling me you don’t have a single camera in this place that could have caught anything that could have helped explained this.”

“The only cameras we have are the ones in the parking lot overlooking the entrance.”

“Fine. Get me the footage for the last 24 hours.”

“Of course, sheriff.”

Stiles watched the man walk away before he turned back to his father, who was running a hand over his face and turning towards Detective Garner.

“This was a threat.” His father whispered to her. “It’s not a coincidence that we’ve had three threats in the last year to stop our investigation on the Hale fire only to find one of the sole survivors in my house. The question is why, or for that matter how.”

Dt. Garner put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Well run a full investigation Sheriff, you know this.”

His father nodded, pushing the palm of his hands into his blood shot eyes.

“In the meantime,” Dt. Garner continued. “I think you should step back from this one just for a little while.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just for a little while, sir.” She nodded pointedly over at where Stiles was hunkered down in his chair. “I’ll keep you up to date and I’ll make sure you know if anything important comes up, sir. I swear.”

Stiles’ dad looked over at him. Stiles wasn’t sure what his dad saw when he looked at him, but whatever it was made him do a full body slump nodding briefly to the Detective before walking around to squat next to Stiles.

“Hey squirt, how’re holding up out here?”

Stiles shrugged, one hand playing with the frayed end of his chairs arm rest.

“Yeah, yeah, me too, kid.”

His dad pulled him into a tight hug. Stiles sat frozen for a moment. On one hand he had almost managed to pull the string out of the end of his armrest, on another his dad smelled like gunpowder and old spice. Nothing at all like home, but everything like his dad and he wanted to bury his head in his chest and sink into darkness.

Eventually he got his arms to move, wrapping around his dad awkwardly and patting the unforgiving bulletproof vest.

Stiles pulled away quickly uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time he could remember.

His dad ruffled his hair again before standing up. “Alright, Mrs. McCall’s shift starts in a few minutes. You stay here and wait for her, and I’ll go find us some food.”

He walked away for a few feet before turning back.

“Stiles?” He called. “Promise me you’ll stay right here.”

Stiles quickly nodded his mind already going back to how he could get the string out of the chair.

Ten minutes later and there was no sign of Mrs. McCall or his dad, and Stiles was getting antsy. He twirled around in his seat string forgotten and ignoring the complaints of the other nurses as they tried to maneuver themselves around him to do their jobs.

He looked around for something to occupy him before his eyes landed on the open door of a room.

Slowly, looking around to make sure he wasn’t drawing too much attention, he crept out of his chair to peer into the room.

There on the bed, wrapped tight in a worn powder blue hospital blanket was the man he found in his bed.

Stiles slowly walked completely into the room looking around and noticing how bare it was compared to how his mom’s room had looked.

His mom had photos, flowers, and stuffed bears he would beg his dad to buy for her. Every inch of her walls was covered in drawings he would do as he would sit by her side after school.

This man’s room held no pictures, no flowers or stuffed animals, no drawings or decorations. Even the blinds were closed. Stiles felt suffocated by the white silence.

Stiles stopped looking around the room to focus on the man as he came up to stand beside the bed. One half of his face was scarred and bumpy making the stubble that grew along his jaw patchy. His dark hair fanned around his head like a crown against his pillow.

Stiles took a deep breath, lungs burning from the hospital cleaner, and made his eyes move to the man’s chest.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he saw the man take in a breath.

Years and years later Stiles wouldn’t be able to describe why but in that exact moment every feeling he had been shoving aside since the moment his mom told him she was sick came rushing into his lungs crushing his chest and making him stagger back.

He reached out grabbing the man's hand to steady himself before his knees hit the floor. Absently he notices how soft and warm the man’s hand was compared to how his mom’s felt just hours before.

Stiles felt tears pour down his face, hot and cold all at once. He didn’t bother trying to brush them away. He was too busy trying to breathe.

“She’s gone. She’s gone. Oh god.” He sobbed. Everything around him fading to nothing.

“She’s gone. My mom’s gone.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just blown away by the love I've received from the first chapter! Honestly you guys made me cry. <3

It wasn’t long before Stiles saw Peter again.

Peter Hale.

The name hadn’t been hard to get. All he had to do was look through some of the open case files laying on the kitchen table while his dad was asleep. Really, if his dad didn’t want anyone looking, he should lock them up.

The file was gruesome. Pictures of charred bodies, charred wood, and charred kid’s toys. A snapshot of a tragedy time wouldn’t be able to change.

The file also had a long list of the dead. Seven confirmed dead. Five suspected but unconfirmable. Three survivors.

Laura Hale 18 - No injuries

Derek Hale 16 - No injuries

Peter Hale 22 - Found unresponsive

There was a report from the insurance investigator stating it was an accident. There was a report from the Fire Chief that was generic and indicated no foul play. And reports and reports of third party sources with names blacked out stating accelerants had been used, how doors had been bared, and how unlikely twelve people died in a home that had no less six emergency exits according to the homes blue prints.

Stiles had gone to bed that night wrapped in the brand-new blanket his dad had gotten him and thought over everything he had found. It didn’t make sense.

Why would someone put a comatose man in his bed? Why would people lie about a fire?

Stiles didn’t know. He was quite frankly a little afraid of the answer.

He fell asleep that night dreaming of a wolf with a line down its snout one side midnight black and the other snow white.

The wolf turned to him, eyes reflecting fire, before lifting its head in a pained howl. Stiles tried to reach out, but it seemed every step he took brought him farther from the wolf instead of closer.

Stiles tried to call out. The wolf was in pain hunkered down close to the ground pitiful whines escaping. He wanted to comfort the wolf but even as he tried the world around him shone brighter and brighter until Stiles was squinting against the pure white light to keep his eyes on the wolf.

He felt the wind pick up, burning against his cheeks and pushing him back even farther.

The wolf continued its frantic whining, yipping, and growling as his eyes bore into him.

The wind knocked into Stiles before carrying away the image of the wolf piece by piece until only his eyes remained against the white.

Stiles woke with the soft glow of the morning sun across his face.

Shaking his dream from his mind, he rubbed his eyes listening to the sounds in the rest of the house. A few birds chirped light and happy about his window and he heard the heater kick in trying to fight the chill of the early morning.

But there was no sound of bacon sizzling in the pan downstairs, or soft humming as his mom got ready for her day, or gentle knock on his door with his moms voice sternly telling him to get up because he was going to be grounded if he missed the bus one more time.

The silence was deafening.

The truth was there hadn’t been much noise in the house for a long time, not since his mom had started getting really sick, but before it came with the expectation that things could go back to normal. His mom was in the hospital, but they had doctors and they would make her better. Her ghost roamed the halls waiting for the real person to reappear. It seemed even her ghost died along with her.

What do you do when your whole world stops but the rest of the world keeps turning?

He didn’t know, but he thought getting dressed might be a good place to start.

He threw off the covers repressing a violent shiver pulling the first things he found from his drawers and slipping them on. They didn’t feel right. His father taking over the duty of laundry a few weeks ago had started buying a different kind of detergent. His clothes didn’t smell right now, and they itched against his skin in ways they never have before.

Stiles ran down the stairs eager to do something. He was vibrating in his own skin with nervous energy he had no idea how to release.

He stopped in the kitchen grabbing a drink before looking over noticing his dad was passed out on the couch. A half empty bottle of Jack sat on the floor and a too small throw covered one arm while the other hung off the couch.

Stiles tripped walking to the counter and the glass he had been holding toppled out of his hand and onto the floor bouncing with a large bang against the wood flooring.

His dad shot up hand going to his waist before noticing Stiles standing there, hot tears fresh in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry dad I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’ll clean this up I swear! Crap, is that glass broken? It didn’t sound like it broke but that doesn’t really mean anything. Let me get the dishtowel.”

“Stiles it’s fine.” His bad groaned wincing as he swung his legs off the couch. “What are you doing up so early?”

Stiles glanced at the clock briefly as he bent down to pick up the glass. His dad waved him aside picking up the glass and a few larger pieces that had managed to break off himself.

“I’m not up early.” He told his dad reaching for the towel to help. “I’m gonna be late for school soon.”

His dad’s head snapped up to look at him and he felt himself shrink back.

“I- I think I missed the bus.” Stiles muttered.

“You’re not going to school.”

“What?”

“You’re not going to school today, Stiles. The last few days have been-”

“No! No dad! Mom would be mad if I missed school!” Stiles interrupted. “I can’t miss school! I don’t want to sit all day all alone!”

His protests were cut short when his dad wrapped his arms tightly around him in a hug.

“Oh Stiles.” He whispered pulling him in closer rocking him slightly. “I took the day off too. We’re going to spend the day together.”

“We’ll uh-” His dad looked around quickly “We’ll bake one of mom’s recipes if you want. Or we can watch some cartoons. We can do anything you want, kiddo.”

“I wanna play with Scott.” Stiles muttered against his dad’s shoulder before pulling back.

“Okay, okay we can do that after he gets out of school today. How about you help me run some errands first?”

Stiles didn’t really want to run errands, he didn’t know what he really wanted at all though, so he just nodded turning quickly to soak up the spill.

“Shit.” He heard his dad mutter walking over to the trash can before dumping the pieces of glass in and looking at down at his hand. He chuckled humorlessly glancing up at stiles and showing a few small cuts on his hand already bleeding.

“See kid, this is why you shouldn’t pick up glass. Should have swept it up.” he shook his head as he walked over to the sink and rinsed off his hand. “Come on. Go get your shoes on. We might as well start the day. I’ll get changed and we’ll go to Patty’s for breakfast. How does that sound?”

Stiles counted twenty-three potholes on his way to Patty’s before he found himself sitting in a vinyl booth an hour later. His dad’s red eyes and unwashed hair shockingly apparent in the harsh lighting.

“Heya fellas!” Their waitress chirped as she walked up. “Stiles. How’s my little cutie? And Sheriff, how’re you holding up?”

His dad smiled awkwardly up at her. “We’re okay, June. Just here for some breakfast.”

“You got it! Let me guess. For Stiles, the pancake deluxe with extra chocolate chips.” She winked over at him. “And for the Sheriff himself, black coffee with an omelet.”

She leaned over slightly sniffing before raising her eyebrow. “And hair of the dog I’d wager.”

His dad coughed lightly. “That would be great, June. Thanks.”

Stiles leaned over the booth as June walked away. “Hair of the dogs? What’s that? Sounds gross!”

“It is. Kind of like medicine. Don’t worry about it, kiddo”

Before Stiles could ask anything else, his dad phone rang. He sighed holding it up to Stiles. “I’m going to go right outside to answer this. I’ll be right back.”

Stiles leaned back in the booth, fingers playing with sugar packets, as he waited for his food to get here. Glancing out the window he watched his dad lean against the cruiser knees slightly bent and face in his hand as he talked to whoever it was on the phone.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” Their waitress said from his other side. “Got your pancakes here for ya. Put your dad’s in a to-go box for him too. Tell him not to worry about the bill.”

She ruffled his hair as he nodded before walking away.

His dad came back in when Stiles was halfway through his pancakes. The sat against his tongue like sand.

“I know I promised you that we’d spend the day together, but something has happened and-”

“It’s okay, dad.”

“No, no it’s not. I’m sorry, Stiles. How about I drop you back off at the hospital with Melissa and she can take you home after her shift so that you can play with Scott?”

Stiles nodded pushing his food away. “Ms. June said she packed that to go for you and not to worry about the bill.”

His dad sighed picking up his breakfast and ruffling Stiles hair. “Come on, Kiddo. Let’s get out of here.”

Mrs. McCall was a busy woman which is why all it took was a quick explanation from his dad ‘there was a problem at the funeral home.’ and a sad look and a reminder to stay out of trouble aimed at Stiles before he found himself back in Peter Hale’s room less than 24 hours from their first meeting. If you could call it that.

Stiles stood there picking at his nails unsure of what to do at this point. He had only entered the room as a curiosity at first. After his breakdown last night things seemed heavier somehow. He had the feeling he had to be in this room.

Whether it was to make it up to the man or to make sense of the whole thing or something, Stiles didn’t know. He just knew he had to do something.

The longer he stood there the more ridiculous the notion seemed. Here he was standing in a room with a man who had no idea he was there. But here he was, and Stiles was anything but a coward.

“I-uh.” Stiles started before shuffling his feet. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. “I’m sorry for last night. I shouldn’t have come in here and just cried all over you like that. That was ridiculous I know. And trust me I have no idea where that come from.”

Stiles knew he should feel awkward standing there blabbering to a comatose man, but the more he forced the words out the more the ball of energy that had kept his leg shaking all day loosened. Slowly he started to feel grounded.

The world might be turning in the opposite direction for Stiles, but right now it didn’t really seem all the important.

“Gosh, it must be depressing to sit here with the blinds closed all day. Here let me open those.”

Stiles turned off the harsh overhead lights before walking over to the blinds and letting in the warm sun. “There. That’s got to be so much better right? My mom always did love the sun. These hospital lights gave her a headache. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to not be able to ask for them to be turned off.”

Stiles pushed the plastic chair in the room over to the side of Peters bed. The sound of metal scraping against the floor filled the room but he paid it no mind before plopping down and hugging his knees.

“My mom’s gone, but I guess you knew that after I basically cried all over you yesterday.” Stiles paused for a moment taking a deep breath and slinking farther into his chair. “I uh- I read the report on your family, you know. Read about what happened, and I just want to let you know that my dad is working on it. He knows something isn’t right.”

Stiles reached over brushing a finger down the side of Peter’s wrist before pulling back and looking out the window.

They sat together in silence before Mrs. McCall found him to tell him it was time to go.

“I’m come back if I can.” He promised Peter tugging on his jacket and ignoring Mrs. McCall’s curious gaze.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my Birthday! As a present I got you all this Chapter! But also because you guys deserve it cause you're all so wonderful and amazing and I love you. 
> 
> Also I very sick and have taken probably triple the amount of meds I should. According to people like Stephen King this could mean this is my best Chapter yet, or it could end in disaster. We shall see!!

The next time Stiles visits Peter he brings a book.

He hesitates for just a moment in the doorway before striding across the room and plopping himself in the hard-plastic chair. He takes his jacket off throwing it in a random corner before making himself comfortable and opening the book.

“So um, I don’t know if you like books for anything. Well I-I guess I don’t know anything about you, really. But I-” He pauses, finger sliding along the spine of his book nervously. “I brought a book. I thought I’d read out loud. They, Well I mean, I heard that talking to people in a coma can help. Who knows if it actually helps. It’s not like anyone has ever woken up from a coma and went ‘Wow I remember you talking, and I just had to wake up!” or maybe they have. I don’t know. But-” Stiles slinks farther down in the chair. He knew the man wasn’t looking at him, knew he couldn’t, but embarrassment flooded his cheeks anyway and he was tempted to just pack up and walk out the door.

“My mom gave me this book for my birthday. I haven’t read it yet, but she said it was full of magic, and monsters, and heroes. I think that’s pretty cool.”

Stiles turned to the first page. “It’s called The Lightening Thief and I thought we could read it together.” 

Stiles took a deep breath before he began. He doesn’t read out loud much, preferring to run around getting his hands dirty trying to figure things out rather than sitting down silently and reading. He didn’t have the attention span for it. His legs always itching to keep moving.

Today, however, the words flowed easily out of him as he got into the story. He tried experimenting with character voices along the way. He ended up changing several as the story went on and he started having a little fun with it.

He was several chapters in before his head jerked up to Melissa’s voice telling him to get ready to go. He quickly gathered his stuff before throwing a quick “Bye Peter!” over his shoulder and going to find Mrs. McCall at the nurse’s station.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern. Stiles and his dad would go and get breakfast. Then they would drive around town doing boring things like go to the story or the bank. His dad wouldn’t even buy him a candy bar at check out which seemed pretty rude to Stiles, although he did get a sucker at the bank. Then after noon Stiles dad would drop Stiles off the hospital for a few hours where he would spend time with Peter before Mrs. McCall took him back to her house to play with Scott.

Stiles grew restless with it quickly. His dad often telling him to settle down as he got things done, and Scott winning against him more times than not as he zoned out.

He liked spending those few hours at the Hospital though. It was different from his mom.

With her he mostly sat with her, trying to soak in as much as he could and staying silent so his dad and the doctors could talk. A new treatment plan here, a new medicine there. His mom would look over at him makes faces as she made fun of the way the doctors talked while Stiles tried hard to hide his laugh being his hand.

With Peter he didn’t bother trying to stay silent. He would read as much as he could often going off on a tangent about why something was a bad idea or what he would do if he was the hero of the story.

“I like the idea of being a hero.” He told Peter one day. “It would be nice to save someone.”

He didn’t feel judged, or mocked, or pitied when he was there. He felt grounded.

After a while he didn’t bother trying not to be annoying either. He thought maybe if he were annoying enough the man would wake up just to shout at him. It would be a new miracle cure.

One day the schedule changed. Instead of Melissa coming into the room to tell him it was time to go, his dad walked in. His eyes ringed dark and uniform rumpled he leaned against the door frame.

“Hey kiddo, what are you doing?”

“Hey dad! I’m just reading.” He said, holding up his book before looking dog earing the page and shutting the book.

His dad cringed from the door. “Remind me to get you a decent bookmark.”

“What why? This works.”

“No, no it really doesn’t.” His dad shook his head. “Come on, pack up your stuff, it’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going to play with Scott today?”

“Not today. Thought we should talk.”

Stiles flinched slightly. Never had he heard those words and it mean something good. “Am I in trouble?”

“No! No, nothing like that. Come on, well talked about it at home.” He backed up slightly turning to give Stiles room to walk out.

Before walking out though Stiles quickly turned around and ran back to Peters bed, his hand resting on Peter’s wrist.

“I won’t be back tomorrow.” He told him. “It’s my mom’s funeral, but I’ll be back when I can. I promise.”

Smiling to himself he turned back around and walked past his dad.

“That was nice of you.” His dad said shutting Peters door and placing a hand around Stiles shoulders as they walked away. Stiles just shrugged clutching his book to his chest.

They were made it all the way out to his dad’s cruiser before the tense silence was broken.

“Oh-Oh craaaaap. Dad! I left my jacket upstairs.” Stiles threw his book into the passenger seat before gearing up to run back in.

“Don’t worry about it, Stiles.” His dad said instead. “It’s a nice day out and you were getting to big for it anyway.”

“Oh. Okay.” Stiles felt weird all the way back home. His dad’s hands kept gripping the steering wheel as his eyes darted around. His radio even stayed on even though he always turned it off when he was with Stiles.

“Is everything okay, dad?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course kiddo.” His dad said, although the tone didn’t give much hope to Stiles. “You’ve been hanging out in Peter Hales’s room a lot lately.”

Stiles nodded. He hadn’t talked all the much about it with his dad even though he had a whole conversation with Melissa about it the first night she had caught him in his room.

“Yeah, I read somewhere that it helps if someone talks to coma patients and he doesn’t have any family. Not that I’ve seen, anyway.”

“He- It’s complicated Stiles.”

“You always say that when you don’t want me to know adult things, you know.”

“You’re still a kid, Stiles. I want to try to keep it that way.”

“I know his family died in a fire. It didn’t happen that long ago. I still remember that we could smell smoke for days all the way to school.”

His dad looked over at him, hands gripping the wheel tighter, and stared for a long moment before looking back at the road.

“It doesn’t scare you?” His dad asked eventually.

“That his family died?” Stiles didn’t know how that could be scary. Sad yes, but he didn’t know any of them. His mom had been scary. Random people just seem like a story.

“No, Stiles. That we found him in our home the other day.”

Oh. “Yeah. That was scary. I thought he was dead. He wasn’t moving or anything, but after we got to the hospital and they figured out who he was and that he wasn’t dead I think I figured it out.”

After pulling up to their house, his dad cut of engine but made no move to get out. Instead turning full body towards Stiles. “Figured it out?”

Stiles turned to look out the window, wringing his hands together over his book. Stiles had been thinking about this over the last few days. He didn’t know what to think for the first few days, but over time Stiles had put things together. The problem was he wasn’t sure his dad would see things the same way.

“Yeah, well, he showed up right after mom...went away.” Stiles answered like it answered everything. To him it did.

“Okay.” He dad said dragging out the “o” and running his hands through his hair. “Explain that one a little bit more.”

“Mom left and Peter showed up. He doesn’t have anyone, and mom was always talking about how we should help other people. She sent him to me, dad. She wanted me to help him.”

There were three beats of silence before he heard his dad mutter “Shit.” He quickly turned opening the door to get out of the car. “I need to show you something.”

His dad ushered him quickly from the car into the house making sure to lock the door behind him.

“Your mom didn’t send him to you.” His dad told him moving things around on the kitchen table until only one folder was laying by itself. The rest in a pile in the corner.

“You don’t know that!” Stiles was angry. He knew his dad wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.

“No, Stiles listen. I’m about to tell you something extremely important.” He motioned for Stiles to sit before taking a seat himself and pouring a glass of whiskey. “You know how when you wanted your PlayStation and you asked me and your mom to sit down for fifteen minutes without saying anything so you could tell us why you deserved one.” 

Stiles nodded.

“This is gonna be like that, kid. I need you to listen to me until I’m done.”

Stiles watched as his dad took a drink before looking at him with serious eyes. “Okay.” Stiles said. He didn’t really know what was going on, and now he was starting to get scared.

“Remember that thing I wanted to talk to you about?” His dad asked and Stiles nodded. “I wanted to talk to you about how I wasn’t going to be dropping you off at the hospital anymore.”

“What! No dad! That’s not fair.”

“Stiles. Remember what I said about no interrupting?”

Stiles crossed his arms and muttered a quick yes with a pout.

“Good.” His dad took another drink before continuing. “I’m not going to be dropping you off at the hospital anymore because it’s not safe. I know how much you’ve enjoyed going the last few days. Melissa has been telling me about how much you’ve been talking about it, so I didn’t want to just take you away without explaining why. But I need you to stay away for a little bit and tell me if you see anything weird.”

“What? Dad, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“The people that took Peter and put him in our home. They could still be hanging around. I don’t want you anywhere near that.”

“There’s nobody who took him anywhere, dad! I already told you that mom-”

“STILES.”

He snapped his mouth closed jumping up from his chair. His dad never yelled at him. He didn’t understand why he was yelling now. He didn’t know what he had done wrong! All he wants to do it help someone. All he wants to do is do right by his mom and he doesn’t understand why he dad just doesn’t understand.

“It’s nice to think that your mom wanted you to help people, and we can do that, but right now it needs to be away from the hospital. You know it’s my job to catch bad guys, right?” He asked. Stiles just stared. “Well right now I think the bad guys are at the hospital. So just until I catch them, I need you to stay here. The moment I catch them we can go back. I swear kiddo, and we can visit everyone you want and read to them and keep them company.”

“So what? I’m not allowed to go to school, I’m not allowed to go visit Peter. What am I allowed to do dad?” He yelled fists balled up as he wiped away the tears threatening to run down his cheeks.

“Stiles.”

“No! I don’t care! Leave me alone.” He turned and ran up the stairs before slamming his bedroom door and burying himself in his blankets.

Everything of his was being taken away and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that his mom was gone and it wasn’t fair that his dad was so sad all the time and it wasn’t fair that he won’t let him visit Peter and it wasn’t fair that his dad was probably going to tell him he can’t see Scott next too!

Oh, crap he was so grounded! He just yelled at his dad and now his dad really will tell him he can’t see Scott anymore. He didn’t know what he did to be all alone but as he sobbed into his pillow he thought maybe if he could fall asleep he would wake up in the morning and it would all be over.

When he eventually fell asleep, he dreamt of silence.

Stiles woke up a few hours later to a dark room and his face sticky, mouth dry, and stomach rumbling. Remembering his fight with his dad he crept out of bed silently.

Opening his door, he slowly walked out of his room hoping his dad didn’t see him in his own cracked door from where he said on the edge of the bed. 

His dad was on the phone with someone. Stiles heard his dad’s side as he tiptoed to the stairs.

“-misplaced trauma she called it. She said he was ignoring Claudia’s death by placing his emotions somewhere safer. Whatever the hell that means.

No, I know, but she sounds like a quack to me. He’s a kid.

He told me his mom wanted him to help people. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? He’s had the worst year of his life; you really think I need to add to that by-

No. Shit. I don’t know. I’m so fucking lost, Mel. The hell am I-” 

Stiles quickly ran down the stairs eager to get away from whatever his dad was talking about. He was tired of listening to heartbreak, and the last thing he wanted was the be the cause of it.

He snuck a soda out of the fridge, confident his dad wouldn’t notice one missing in the morning and popped it open chugging half of it down in one gulp. He was hungry too, but he wasn’t sure what he could make that wouldn’t alert his dad that he was awake.

He looked around quickly for ideas but stopped at the sight of the lone folder sitting on the table. His eyes darted to the staircase to make sure his dad was still in his room before hopping over to the table to see what his dad had been working on.

He had to stop himself from dropping his soda when he saw what was inside. There nestled along medical and police reports were a series of photos.

The first one was Peter before the fire. His face was smooth and his blue eyes nearly clear in the sun as he leaned over smiling a crooked smile at a dark hair girl whose face was turned away from the camera. 

The next few were a series of stills taken from a high angle. It showed two people in scrubs and masks carrying a sleeping Peter and placing him in the back of a truck. It was time stamped the night of his mom’s death.

The last photo made his skin crawl.

He shoved the file away from him backing up slowly as he yelled for his dad. There was barely a moment of silence before his dad came running down the stairs. Noticing briefly the file hanging open on the table he jogged over to Stiles pulling him into a hug. He muttered sorry against the top of his head like a mantra.

Stiles buried his face in his dad chest clinching his eyes shut trying to get rid of the image.

The last photo showed Stiles sitting in Peter’s room reading with a smile. Someone had taken a red marker and drawn a bullseye right over Stiles' head. The words ‘Last Chance’ written haphazardly along the bottom.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter four times. Please be kind to me. 
> 
> Deleted scenes include Stiles jumping on top of the desks at this dads work pretending to be a superhero. Because honestly he deserves to be a kid dammit.

Time passed by in uneven waves for Stiles after that.

The Sheriff quit putting his case files out on the table, locking them away in the safe in his home office instead. Stiles spent most his days hanging out at the station in a mostly unused interrogation room where he was allowed to play, or he sat in his dad’s office when he was bored and decided to people watch instead (i.e. annoy his dad to a truly astonishing degree).

At least he was still able to spend his evening at Scott’s house.

Eventually his dad let him go back to school. It was weird at first. Everyone gravitated away from him giving him a wide berth of space while he walked along the hallway or at lunch. He’d think he was invisible if it weren’t for the way people’s eyes lingered on him as he passed or they way they whispered when they thought he couldn’t hear. Maybe they knew he could hear, but just didn’t care. 

His teachers didn’t yell at him as much for getting out of his seat and being a disruption in class. Which he did far more often than he normally would have just to test how far they would be willing to take it. He could see the pity in their eyes. People have been getting the same look around him since his mom got sick, so overall he decided ignored the weirdness for now.

Days turned into weeks turned into months and over time everything slotted back into place and returned to normal.

Stiles wasn’t sure if he could ever go back to what normal was before, but he pretended anyway.

For his Twelve birthday Stiles received his very first comic book.

Stiles fell headfirst, shoulders back, eyes wide open into his very first true love; Batman.

He begged his dad to take him to the library so he could read more. There he discovered Green Lantern and the Young Avengers. Wonder Woman came next and then Teen Titians. So on and so forth until Stiles had read every comic they had.

When Stiles was all out of reading materials, he begged his dad for days to take him to the comic book store.

His dad reluctantly agreed ruffling Stiles hair with one hand and rubbing his tired eyes with his other after an overnight shift. Stiles bounced in the seat the whole way over.

The local comic book store was small, around the size of their living room at home at a generous glance, and it smelled vaguely of dust and mold. Stiles loved it.

He bounced from shelf to shelf then box to box looking through all the titles while the old man behind the counter watched on in amusement.

“I’m sorry.” His dad said to the old man. “He just gets excited.”

“No worries. It’s always good to see fresh readers in here.” The man laughed. “Nowadays all I see are the same ten middle age men complaining about how some new change is ruining the comic industry. It’s always nice to watch someone enjoy these books the way they’re supposed to be.”

His dad huffed out a laugh turning back to watch Stiles pulling out books from bins with a wide smile.

“Look dad! Robin has his own series! Can I get these please, please?” Stiles asked bouncing slightly and holding up his book like a prize.

“Of course, kiddo.”

The old man laughed, his eyes crinkling, as Stiles come up to the counter with his arms full of comics. 

“I’d like to buy these, please.” Stiles beamed.

The old man rang him up quickly. “Hold on, I got something you might like.”

Stiles waited at the counter looking over at his dad every so often as the man walked into the back. They heard a curse and mumble before he came back around the corner.

“Here you go, now.” The old man said before placing a small item on the counter. “Now people can see what you love without even talking to you.” 

Stiles slowly reached out and picked it up. The old man had given him a cheap yellow bracelet with a red Robin symbol poking out in the middle. It was the greatest thing Stiles has ever seen. He laughed, delighted, tugging it onto his wrist and holding it up to his dad for him to see.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His dad told the man.

“Nonsense. They send up promotional material for free all the time. I’ve had this sitting in the back for years.”

Stiles realized quickly the bracelet was it was too big for his wrist as his dad paid. He clutched at it when it fell down into his palm and ran his fingers along the smooth rubber pulling it back on. Stiles smiled picked up the bag that held his books and hopped out grinning the whole way.

Stiles fell asleep that night with a comic half open on the pillow beside him and clutching his bracelet while the image of a black and white wolf with fire in his eyes burned through his dreams.

At 7:56pm four months and three days later Stiles and Scott sat back to back against Scott’s bedroom door listening to the sound of yelling downstairs. Mr. McCall had come home stumbling and unhappy and Mrs. McCall quickly ushered them upstairs with a soft kiss to both their heads and a goodnight.

The walls were thick enough neither one of the boys knew what was being said, but yelling was yelling, and Stiles always knew Mrs. McCall yelling meant only very bad things.

“I think they’re gonna get a divorce.” Scott mumbled with his head down.

Stiles moved over and pressed his shoulder against Scott’s. He didn’t know what to say to that, but he also knew words weren’t all the great when you’re sad anyway.

“I’m sorry you have to be here for this.” Scott leaned back against Stiles. “It’s not fair.”

“It won’t be so bad.” Stiles said after a particularly loud yell made it way upstairs. “At least you won’t have to listen to them fighting anymore.”

“Yeah, maybe. But what if it’s like Andrew when his parents split up and he had to move away?” Scott turned to look at Stiles, large eyes filling with tears. “What if I have to move and I never get to see you again.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That won’t happen. I’ll have my dad make it a law where you have to stay here.” He took Scott’s hand in his and squeezed tight. “We’re brothers. No one can tear us apart.”

“Yeah, but not like real brothers.”

“You think that matters?”

“Yeah. I mean, doesn’t it?”

Stiles shrugged as he ran his finger along the underside of his bracelet thinking. Scott was his brother in every way that mattered to him. So what if they didn’t have the same parents? He never really understood why that was a problem in the first place. But Scott was right, just because they knew they were brothers didn’t mean everyone else would agree.

“What if we could become real brothers?” He eventually asked jerking his head up to look at Scott.

Scott sat up straighter staring right back. “How?”

“I have an idea. Come on.” He tugged Scott’s hand and pulled him out the door.

They paused at the top of the stairs listening to see where Mr. and Mrs. McCall were, noticing the yells were still in the office, before slowly slinking down the stairs.

“What are we doing?” Scott whispered.

“Shhh.” Stiles pulled Scott farther down the stairs and into the kitchen quickly grabbing a knife and pushing Scott as fast as he could out the back door. Thankfully, the back door was on the other side of the house from the office.

“Why did you grab a knife?!” Scott hissed once they were fully outside.

Stiles looked up at the clear sky noticing the full moon and smiled. Perfect.

“Because Scott, we’re gonna do a spell that’ll make us brothers.”

“Uh.”

“Come on Scotty. Trust me?”

Scott bounced from foot to foot looking around the yard nervously. He looked over at Stiles to see him nodding with a smile and sighed. “Yeah okay, but you can’t let mom catch us.”

Stiles nodded with a grin pulling Scott into the center of the back yard directly under the moon light. He made sure he was facing Scott completely before taking the knife and slicing through his hand.

“DUDE!” He heard Scott yell, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut as he clutched at his hand. Jesus Christ, he did not expect that to hurt as bad as it did.

“Okay.” He gasped eventually before handing the knife over to Scott. “Your turn.”

Scott swallowed looking between the knife and Stiles’ bleeding hand. “You’re sure this will make us brothers?”

“Yeah Scotty. It’s magic.”

Scott hesitated for a few more minutes before he gave a mental shrug and sliced through his own hand.

“OW. OH MY GOD.”

“SHHHHHH.”

“You didn’t tell me it was going to hurt that bad!”

“Quick, give me your hand.” Stiles said grasping at Scott’s hand and bring the cuts together.

“Do you, Scotty, take me as your blood brother from this day until the end of time?” Stiles asked.

“What? Is this a marriage?” Scott huffed.

“Just answer the question.”

“Um yeah, of course I do.”

“Awesome. Okay now you ask me.”

“Stiles, do you want to be my blood brother from now on?”

“That’s not how I said it.”

“Close enough.”

“Ugh okay fine. Yes, I do.” Stiles laughed. “Now we’re brothers! Nothing will ever be able to tear us apart now.”

They smiled at each other before launching into a tight hug. Stiles clutched at Scotts shirt ignoring the blood seeping into the fabric as he pulled him closer. He wasn’t going to lose Scott, not as long as he was breathing.

“Boys.” They heard Mrs. McCall yell. “What are you two doing?”

“Uh-oh.” Scott mumbled trying to hide his hand behind his back. Unfortunately, Mrs. McCall’s eyes were dead center on blood running down Stiles’ wrists as he lifted it to wave to her with a wry smile.

By 9:18pm Stiles found himself sitting on an emergency room bed with a fresh bandage over his stitched-up hand his father glaring at him.

“I can explain?” Stiles tried with a grimace.

“I would love to hear why you think slicing your hand open with a kitchen knife was a good idea.” His dad raised an eyebrow from the other side of the room.

“Well, uh, I wanted to be Scott’s brother?”

“How in the world would slicing your hand open do that?”

“Magic?” Stiles asked.

“Jesus kid. Aren’t you a little old for that?” He dad leaned up against the wall, running his hands through his hair. “But apparently not old enough I can have the knives laying around.”

Stiles opened his mouth to try to defend himself just as the young doctor who had stitched his hand up earlier knocked on the door and poked his head in.

“Sheriff, you mind if I have a word with you outside for a moment?”

His dad nodded with a sigh. “You stay right here, Stiles. I’ll be right back.”

Stiles watched his dad leave swinging his legs of the edge of the bed.

Drumming his fingers on his knee he began counting. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

Thirty-three seconds later Stiles hopped off the bed and cracked the door open letting his eyes roam down the hall trying to spot his dad. Him and the Doctor were over by the nurse’s station five doors down and talking in low voices. His dad’s back was turned to him.

Stiles smiled to himself walking out of the room with confidence and quickly turning the corridor to the elevators.

The only good thing that ever came out of Stiles spending so much time in the hospital over the last few years was that not a single nurse or doctor raised an eyebrow seeing a twelve year old kid walking the halls alone. All of them use to him by now.

It seemed like just a moment but also like far too long before Stiles stood in Peter’s room once again.

“Hey.” He called rushing in and clamping his good hand around Peter’s wrist. “I know I haven’t been by in a really long time. I’m really really sorry.”

Stiles looked over Peter. Nothing had really changed since he’s last seen him. His hair even seemed to fall in the same way.

“I promised I’d come back though, and I needed to tell you why I’ve been gone.”

He paused looking over at the window and making sure the blinds were closed.

“There’s some bad guys after me, I guess. Dad says I have to stay away until he catches them. But don’t worry, as soon as he does he promised I could come back anytime I want. I’ll finish that book and maybe by then you’ll wake up. If not, that’s okay I’ll just start reading you the comics my dad just bought me.”

Stiles stopped at the sound of a nurse’s voice, not wanting to take any risks, before starting again in a lower tone.

“I gotta go. My dad’s waiting for me and he doesn’t know I’m here. I’ll be back when I can. I promise.”

Stiles smiled taking his bracelet off and tugged it over Peter’s hand. Where the bracelet was too large on Stiles it was almost too small against Peter’s large wrists. But eventually Stiles got it to sit right, the Robin symbol staring up proudly at him.

“But until then you can have my bracelet. I love it a lot, but you can hold on to it till I come back.”

Stiles patted Peters hand before turning and rushing out the door not noticing the fingers that twitched reaching out to him.

Stiles hummed walking on his way back. The same feeling settled down in his chest as when his mom baked fresh muffins on Sunday mornings, or when she would hug him after a nightmare. When his mom became sick, he gave up on the idea of feeling like this again.

He felt like there was nothing else in the world except for this moment. Which is exactly why he didn’t notice the woman trailing behind him until her hand clamped around his mouth.

“Night night.” She whispered in his ear, jabbing a needle in his neck. He fought against her as she pulled him into in an empty room, trying to yell for his dad, clawing at her arm, and kicking back until darkness dragged him down. He hoped viciously that he was able to get at least a few good jabs in.

The last thing he heard was her chuckle.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles watched a lot of daytime crime shows. Like way more than he ever should have been allowed too. Between all the tests his mom went through, the shifts his dad worked, and the monotony of the day, Stiles found just a little bit of reprieve in trying to figure out the plot of the shows that always stayed on in his moms room. In the end he grew bored with them too. He had fined tuned the shows to their basic formulas. He knew everything that was going to happen, how it was going to happen, and why, just off the first five minutes of an episode. He was even able to guess the dialogue in episodes he’d never seen before.

Stiles knew how kidnappings happened. The victim would do something stupid that would put them in a situation to easily be grabbed. (Way to go on the one, Stiles.) They would be knocked out. Then they would be dragged to a dark dingy place, possibly with a water leak from some rusted pipe that the victim would be tied to, where they would wake up. They’d be confused of course, no one ever truly expects to be kidnapped after all, until they see the cold dead eyes of their kidnapper.

“Why?” The victim would ask, lips quivering and tears in their eyes, prompting the kidnapper to give some long-winded speech about revenge or plans or whatever they’re doing. And boom! In would come the good guys ready to save the day before anything TRULY bad happened.

It was all very boring.

The moment the darkness overtook him he thought, ‘welp I know where this is going’.

Except when he slowly opened his eyes through his blinding headache, it wasn’t to a cold damp dark basement or the dead eyes of a killer.

The first thing he saw was green. So much green. Trees, his mind supplied for him. He was somewhere in the forest. The moss beneath his hands might be damp but it certainly wasn’t dark. The morning sun filtered through the trees making him flinch and clamp his eyes shut again when the light made his headache flare.

They didn’t even tie him up! They just laid him out on the forest floor not even bothering to take his shoes or anything. He wasn’t sure if they were extremely confident in their own abilities or if they severely underestimated Stiles’ own.

Slowly he began to relax with the heat of the sun on his skin. Maybe it was all a dream? Maybe he’s dreaming now, or his kidnappers decided he just wasn’t worth the hassle? Squirrely son of the Sheriff; Stiles wouldn’t think he would be a good kidnap victim either.

Hearing a chuckle behind him he froze and slowly opened his eyes as the sound of footsteps circled around before stopping in front of him. He sat up peering through squinted eyes.

The woman who stood before him was nothing like he would have expected. Instead of dead eyes, Stiles found himself staring up into wide soft brown eyes framed by dark hair and wide kind smile. She wasn’t even dresses like a bad guy. Instead she dressed just like a local, flannel shirt, jeans and hiking boots.

Stiles was honestly thrown.

“Wha-” Stiles tried to say only to be cut off by a rough cough that only seemed to get worse the longer it went on.

The woman rolled her eyes before reaching around and lightly patting him on the back.

“There there.” She said. “Get it all out. I’ll wait.”

After several long moments he was able to stop, only letting out a few throat clearing coughs, but he didn’t bother trying to speak again as he looked up at the woman.

“Can I call you Stiles?” She asked sitting against a tree across from him, tilting her head slightly. Stiles didn’t know why she was asking in the first place, so he just nodded a little unsure. 

“Thanks, Stiles.” She smiled. “Here’s the thing. I don’t know what the heck the deal is with you and your dad. I mean, you two are seriously messing up my plan. A plan, mind you, that should have been done and over with two years ago.”

The woman picked up a twig from the ground beside here and pointed it up to him. “What do you have to say for yourself, Stiles?”

They stared at each other for a long moment while he tried desperately to put some pieces together only to find that nothing fit.

“What plan?” He eventually croaked out.

“No.” She shook her head. “See, how this is going to work is: I ask the questions and you give the answers. Not vice versa.”

Stiles just stared at her again causing her to sigh.

“Okay, let’s start with something easier. How long has your known Peter?”

His brain screeched to a halt. “Peter?” He asked.

“Yes, Peter. The man in the coma you constantly visit.” She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know him. I just visit him because my mom wanted me too.” He hated the way his voice shook with uncertainty of that statement.

“See, now, I don’t believe that.” She said with a hand reaching up to push into his hair before gripping it tightly and pulling his head back to bare his throat. Stiles tried to push her back as she leaned in to take a deep breath, only he found he couldn’t even budge her. His hands met solid flesh as if it were nothing more than brick wall.

“You smell like pack.” She whispered shoving him to the side making his face bang harshly into a rock poking out of the ground. “That’s a problem.”

Stiles crawled slightly away ignoring the sting in his cheek as she began pacing.

“I come back after hearing about a little problem. A problem that was not my fault by the way, only to find some kid who smells like pack hanging around Peter? No, I left him alone for a reason, short stack.” She walked over to Stiles picking him up off the ground by his shirt. “And your father, oh your sweet little father, just so happens to leave the case open despite every other official in town saying it was nothing more than an accident.”

Stiles slowly started to back away. Her eyes grew wilder, smile sharper with every word she spoke.

“And now.” She laughed. “Now you want to tell me it was all just a merry little coincidence. No no no no, I’m not stupid.”

She ran the back of her hand lovingly over Stile’s cheek. “You’re not a threat to me, little lamb, but your father he needs to learn.”

He couldn’t breathe as he watched her soft brown eyes turn a harsh red. Daytime television never showed eyes doing that!

“That’s where you come in.” She whispered as fangs slowly began to grow through her smile.

Stiles didn’t even think, he just turned and ran as hard as he could ignoring the loud laugh and “I love a good chase!” yelled after him.

He didn’t bother turning around to see how close she was he just ran as fast as he could zig zagging through the trees. He, like most kids in the town, spent more time in the forest than he did in his own home, so thankfully he knew it like the back of his hand. He also watched way too many daytime crime shows. Thank god for small miracles. Which is why with almost no thought at all he sucked in a breath and jumped into the river going boneless and letting the current take him down stream as far as he could manage without coming up for breath.

Letting himself float up, he took a deep breath as his head broke water and relaxed letting the stream take him farther away. He needed to think. He knew he couldn’t stay in the river for much longer. The current was getting stronger and if his knowledge from all the summers he’s gone camping out here is correct then he was going to be coming up on rapids here soon.

The last thing he wanted to do was run from a monster just to be killed by a bunch of rocks.

Jesus what even was that girl? Glowing eyes and fangs can’t be natural right? If they were, they sure hadn’t covered that in school yet.

He sighed, ignoring the shaking raking through his body, and turned slightly to swim back to the shore. It didn’t matter now. Now he needed to think about how he was getting out of the forest.

He was the son of the Sheriff, and with that came hostage situation training. Don’t attempt to fight back. Find the nearest exit. If no clear exit was available, then hide. Unfortunately for him this was a forest and not a mall, so he had to improvise a little on the fine details.

Crawling onto shore he made a split-second decision to keep his wet clothes on rather than take them off. Wet clothes offered more protection than no clothes at all, and the time it would take to try to peel them off would be time wasted anyway.

With deliberate steps he started walking towards the trees praying for some type of hole he could hide in, an empty tree truck, a fox hole, anything. He knew the ranger’s office would be too far to get to on foot, even if he somehow knew which way to go. He had no idea which way town was either. He didn’t know anything at all really expect that some lady who may or may not be a demon kidnapped him and maybe threatened to kill him.

The only thing he knew with absolute certainty was that his dad would be looking for him. All he had to do was last until he was found.

He nearly yelled in relief when he came across a small cave. Finally! Finally, something was working out for him.

He clambered down into the small opening having to nearly crawl inside. Once completely inside he leaned against the wall and took a deep breath still ignoring the shaking of his hands. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. All he had to do was wait now. Surely psycho demon lady wouldn’t be able to track him this far before his dad’s search party.

Slowly he took in his surroundings. It mostly looked like what he would expect any cave to look like, dark, dingy, and dirty. The only difference being the small doll propped up on the back of the cave wall.

Wait, what?

Stiles pushed himself back slightly as he took in more of the cave now that his eyes were adjusting to the dark. He jerked around trying to see if he could see any occult symbols on the walls. Thank you daytime television, once again, for that idea.

Instead of writings on the wall however when he turned his head, he came face to face with what Stiles could only assume was a coyote.

It tilted its head at him before baring its fangs silently.

“N-nice coyote. Nice girl, god I hope you’re a girl.” Stiles mumbled pushing himself back towards the entrance. “I’m sorry to barge in here like this. I just needed a place to hide. Do- Do you think I can hide here?”

The coyote snarled loudly making Stiles scramble back as quickly as he could.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said tripping the mouth of the cave and smacking headfirst into the demon lady.

Today was just not his day.

“I’m disappointed. It took me nearly no time at all to find you, and when I do some other animal nearly took all the fun away from me.” She tutted pulling him straight up and gripping his arms.

Her eyes were still blood red, and she seemed to have even more fangs filling her mouth. Of course, that could just be his adrenaline speaking. When he tried to pull away again, he felt a sharp pain just below his elbow. Looking down he saw that her hands were now tipped in claws. Claws that were now embedded in his arm.

“Not again, pup.” She smiled. If it weren’t for the fangs, Stiles would have thought it motherly. “Come along now. The old house is just a few more minutes hike up that way. Your death needs to make a statement.”

Stiles tugged at his arm testing to see if he could get away, only to find each tug caused a surge of pain and more horrifying a surge of blood gushing out. He tried desperately to keep his breathing even as she pulled him along. The shaking in his hands now made its way to his legs making him stumble as he walked.

How was he going to get out of this? Everyone said that his mom was too young to have died, but if that were true then what does that make Stiles? And his dad, oh god his dad was going to end up alone. He already has to drink himself to sleep every night, how was he going to survive with Stiles gone?

Stiles let his tears fall just as the old burnt remains of the Hale house came into view. This was it. He had no plan, and it was obvious he wasn’t going to win in a fight. But he will fight. He will fight with everything his dad ever taught him and more. At least his dad can be proud of that when they find his body.

He kicked out, his foot connected with his knee, hoping he could trip her up so he could get a few good punches to her face. But she barely budged, outright laughing instead.

Just as all hope left his body an arrow whistled through the air straight into the woman’s shoulder. She yelled jerking back, and the claws the were embedded him his arm sliced his skin from elbow to wrist.

Stiles screamed clutching his arm to his chest. Oh god oh god oh god. That was so much blood. Oh god, he can see the muscle in his arm, oh sweet mother Jesus.

“Argent.” The woman growled moving into a crouch.

“Wolf.” A man said walking out of the forest still aiming his cross bow.

Stiles wanted to laugh. Now this was prime time television right here. Dashing hero with salt and pepper hair and strapped to the nine in weapons steps out at the very last moment to kill the villain and save the victim. How very cliché. He takes offense to being the damsel in this situation. Even if the shoe fit.

He might have said something out loud too, if it weren’t for the spots that were now entering his vision. He blinked rapidly trying to clear his eyes.

“Don’t you know we’re allies now, Argent?” The woman asked. “Allies don’t go shooting their Allies.”

“No ally of mine would kill a kid.”

The woman choked on her laughter. “Oh dear. You must not know what side you’re on then.”

She grabbed Stiles, shoving him into the man before taking off in dead run and disappearing into the trees.

“Shit.” The man cursed just as Stiles’ legs completely gave out from underneath him. Vaguely he noticed the pool of blood he dropped headfirst into. Gross. If he had any control over his body, he would have been sick.

“Kid! Kid! Come on, let’s get you out of here.” The man tried pulling him back up, but Stiles just laid there as dead weight.

Man, his death was supposed to be cooler than this, he thought just as he finally fell into blackness for the second time in 24 hours. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for Peter not showing up to save the day. I know we all wanted it so dang bad. Me included!!
> 
> Fun fact: I use to work at a bank and we use to have to do hostage training every 3 to 6 months. The rules were, hide, barricade yourself, if they have you inside the building then do whatever they ask you. However if they try to take you out of the building fight till your dying breath. They said and I quote "It's better if your family knows were your body is." Ruthless y'all. 
> 
> Really hope this chapter lived up to your guys expectations. I was so nervous about posting it.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment. I will beg. Don't doubt me.


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